


The Spell under the Rose

by kim_onka



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast Elements, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Inspired by Beauty and the Beast, Reylo - Freeform, other characters are there too but I won't spam the tags, yes :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-03 06:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10238222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim_onka/pseuds/kim_onka
Summary: “The rose from my gardens,” the figure says quietly, and it seems to Rey it is more to himself than to her; she raises her hand self-consciously to touch the flower on her collarbone, feeling the stranger's unseen eyes follow her motion.His voice, muted by the mask, rings deep and strong none the less when he speaks again.“You must be the girl.”...AU. When her friends go looking for the fabled monster and don't return, Rey leaves Jakku and, searching for them, heads towards the beast's supposed place of dwelling. Once there, she will begin to uncover the truth behind the stories – and may just save someone....Yes, it's a Beauty & the Beast story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, a Beauty & the Beast retelling – I know everyone's doing it, but this one's mine :) If this project is successful, I'll write Sleeping Beauty (although I wouldn't be surprised if this turned out to have been done as well). For now, however, enjoy.
> 
> My greatest thanks to my friend Soshi185, without whom this would not be possible.

Days are trickling past like grains of sand through Rey's fingers, and she marks each carefully on the wall of her small hut, so as not to misplace any of the too-similar ones she spends on her watch; she knows exactly the number of marks she has made, by rows and uneven columns, she knows the accidental patterns that reveal themselves over time; the marks seem to tell her life story more than anything else could.

Rey also knows exactly the number of marks she has made since she has last seen Finn and Poe: six.

(Even so, she counts them again.)

* * *

As she begins to etch another mark into the wall – the seventh mark by this newest count – Rey recalls the stories she has heard.

( _What truth is there to the stories, Rey?_ )

Stories originating from Jakku and tales brought by the rare visitors; vague descriptions of the weird incident five years before, when the night bloomed aflame with magic, making the dark shapes stand out against its flare, when spells boomed through the air and a wild cry could be heard, as if of a wounded beast – these mixed with detailed fables of a monster living in a secluded manor, prowling the woods by night, devouring hapless travellers – unless one arrived there by day, then the monster is forced to provide them with food and shelter.

( _What do you think?_ )

Rey has heard these stories and watched them unfold from witness reports to gossip to what seemed to her outright fabrications; she doesn't know where the truth lies and, if she were to be honest, she doesn't particularly care.

Rey's job is to stay alive, and as long as the monster doesn't emerge from the wilderness to devour her, it is irrelevant to the task; merely a curiosity.

Or at least, had been until she befriended two young adventurers.

* * *

The moment when the subject was finally raised came when they were sitting on a dune, watching the horizon for the last rays of the setting sun. Finn had once told them to look out for the single flash of green in the distance, but so far neither of them had managed to see it.

(Rey has been trying almost every night, since.)

"Rey. What do you think, how much truth is there in the stories? The monster stories?" Poe asked her.

He did not turn his gaze away from the sky as he spoke; only Rey cast a look in his direction and then dropped her eyes again, to where her hands were idly playing with the sand.

"I don't know," she said. "Some."

"Some?"

She shrugged.

"Have you seen this monster?" Finn asked, his curiosity visibly piqued.

"I don't know," she repeated. "I saw– something. What everyone did. Beyond that, I cannot tell."

_The fire. The shapes. The cry._

"I see."

* * *

 

The next day, Finn and Poe announced they would go seek the alleged monster.

They invited Rey to go along with them, as they did each and every time they left the village; she refused, as she always did.

She had a watch to keep, here in Jakku.

So they bid her farewell and departed, promising to return soon, having uncovered the truth.

And then they didn't.

* * *

 

The mark is already deep in the wall when Rey gives it the last absent-minded polish and shakes herself out of her thoughts.

She is starting to feel worried.

* * *

 

Two days before, she found a rose laying on her doorstep.

Rey looks at it now, where it rests: deep in colour, soft to touch and slightly wilted; a few petals fall away beneath Rey's fingers as she feels the flower.

She remembers.

_They say the monster lives in a rose garden._

_They say it waters the roses with the blood of its victims, so the roses grow vibrant red._

_They say it kills anyone who ventures into the garden._

_Laughter._

_I'll bring you a rose from the monster's garden, Rey!_

But this rose is not the vibrant red of blood; it is darker, deeper, and softer.

Rey straps it to her jacket.

* * *

 

(She has always loved flowers, so scarce here in Jakku.)

* * *

 

Rey doesn't know what she is expecting, wearing the rose like a badge to distinct herself against the sandy monotone of the village; she doesn't know if her implicit treatment of the flower as a sign has any basis in reality, or where the feeling that she is meant to wear it comes from.

Perhaps she is falling into a story pattern.

Perhaps marking herself to be found is a natural instinct of someone who has worn the same hairstyle for the last thirteen years.

Perhaps she does it because it is the only thing she can think of to do, as it is; the only way she has of acknowledging her concern to the outside world.

However it may be, the fact remains that the rose appeared on her doorstep; thus, she wears it.

And waits.

* * *

 

What she is waiting for comes later that day, in the form of a tiny old woman sitting by the road.

The woman looks at Rey as she walks by, and the girl stops despite herself; the stranger's deep-set eyes, small and bright with wisdom, hold her gaze for a long while, long enough for the scene to become awkward; but the moment Rey decides to walk away, convinced she has imagined it, the woman speaks.

"Child," she inquires without preamble, "do you know where this flower comes from?"

"From the monster's garden," Rey half-answers, half-asks.

The woman laughs.

"Quite so," she says. "The monster's garden. Such beautiful roses the monster grows. Is it not a wonder?"

Rey says nothing.

The woman reaches to touch the flower with a studied gentleness that almost resembles affection; her small hand, smaller even than Rey's, brushes against the petals as if in greeting.

"It is calling to you," she states. "Why aren't you going where it wants to lead you?"

"Going where?"

"You know," says the woman.

Rey does, even if she would rather not admit it.

"I can't leave here."

The woman sends her a doubtful look.

"What of your friends?"

"I- You know where they are, then? Are they in the monster's castle? Are they all right?"

Another laugh, this time short and curtly amused.

"Go see for yourself, child. I'll only tell you one thing – it's hardly a castle."

"But my friends-"

"Go," the woman urges. "Find out. Help your friends. Staying put in here will help no one – not even you."

Rey hesitates.

"You wore the rose." The woman is smiling now, and there is something surprisingly infuriating about how knowing the smile appears. "I know your eyes, girl. You wore the rose and you want to see where it will lead you – what waits ahead. So, go. Go, and you may just save someone."

Rey hesitates again, and nods.

"Are you going to stay around here?" she asks.

"For a time," the woman concedes. "Don't worry. Go."

"I will," Rey promises, and she means it.

"Good." Now the woman appears genuinely pleased, and Rey doesn't know what to think of it.

She leaves.

She walks several dozen steps before she realises she hasn't even asked the woman's name; but when she turns, the stranger is no longer there.

* * *

 

She will go, then – to where the monster dwells.

There is unease quenching Rey's stomach as she paces around her little hut, trying to ready herself for the journey; but it is not at the thought of facing a beast – not yet, at least.

She knows it is irrational, she knows she is being paranoid, and yet the grain of fear remains.

She shouldn't be leaving.

She tries to convince herself the woman will keep watch, that Unkar Plutt will relay her message, and after all, she would only be away for a short time–

(Why does she trust the woman so unconditionally, anyway?)

(Is it the story pattern at work again, or was she that desperate for someone to break through her uncertainty?)

The truth is, Rey is afraid of missing the moment her family return for her.

So afraid she nearly forgets to worry about possibly having to face the monster.

* * *

 

(Yet there is also a part of her that is happy to leave – that has wanted to leave for a long time, feeling stifled and chained in the village.)

(Rey feels slightly guilty about this.)

* * *

 

Rey thinks of Finn, and of Poe.

Once upon a time, she found a small golem lost in the desert, and helped it evade local thieves. Then she met a young man she mistook for a thief, and a wounded man the golem recognised as its master; and just like that, she had friends.

It was a wonder, for she had never had friends before.

Rey's friends have visited her almost regularly, bringing fantastic tales of the wide world and curious little gifts of exotic food, foreign greenery and peculiar tokens; they offered her a break from monotony, a brief spell of entertainment, and most importantly, company.

They have offered her a share of joy.

They have also offered Rey a chance to join them in their travels, yet she consistently refused; and inevitably, she has watched their retreating backs and fought the images and associations assaulting her mind; and she has reassured herself that they will be back, even if she never knows when to expect them.

Sometimes Rey reflects that above all else, her friends made her realise how lonely she was.

She can't leave them.

* * *

 

She etches another mark into wall.

(How many days will she have to mark once she returns?)

(She packs a piece of rope, resolving to tie a knot for each day of her absence.)

* * *

 

Her sleep that night is troubled and filled with dreams; when she wakes, she remembers none of them.

* * *

 

In the morning Rey departs.

(She knows where to go – this is one of the few things all reports agree on.)

Her steps are brisk and resolute, her mind fixed on her destination; on her collarbone, the wilting rose; in her hands, her trusted staff, although she secretly – even though the only she can hope to fool is herself – harbours doubts as to how helpful it would be if she were to confront the monster.

The monster.

Now that she has left the village behind – not without the nagging discomfort – and is headed towards the source of the tales and rumours, her mind is slowly switching focus from a concern over being away to a concern about what she will find ahead.

( _You want to see – what waits ahead._ )

Once again, Rey runs the stories through her mind; and once again, she is forced to admit she doesn't know which to believe.

Are Finn and Poe even there? Are they all right?

( _You may just save someone._ )

Should she have gone looking for them earlier?

( _Staying put here will help no one – not even you._ )

Rey tightens the grip on her staff and walks on.

* * *

 

It is dusk by the time she arrives at the gates of the monster's residence.

The sight takes her by surprise: a turn reveals unexpected greenness behind the gates. There are towering trees guarding the mansion and leaves littering the yard, drifting on gusts of wind. The walls of the manor – which, true to the woman's words, is no castle, as far as Rey can tell, but still looms enormous in her eyes – are covered in winding hangings of ivy, which also entwines the rusting gates; and the gates, at which she is standing, are open.

Rey regards her surroundings, suspicious of the invitingly ajar gate; as she hesitates, uncertain of what her next move should be, she spots a dark silhouette beneath the trees' shade, standing out in thicker shadow against the faint grey of the evening: a tall figure clad entirely in black, from sweeping cloak to forbidding mask.

The figure appears to notice her also, and takes a few steps in her direction; the scenery seems to condense around the figure while Rey waits for it to act, to speak, to react to her presence in any way; she is the intruder, after all, intruder to the monster's house.

"The rose from my gardens," the figure says quietly, and it seems to Rey it is more to himself than to her; she raises her hand self-consciously to touch the flower on her collarbone, feeling the stranger's unseen eyes follow her motion.

His voice, muted by the mask, rings deep and strong none the less when he speaks again.

"You must be the girl."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who supported the story! Here's chapter 2. Be warned, however, that next week there's a fandom event I hope to contribute to (Fëanorian Week), so chapter 3 will take a bit longer.  
> In fact, mostly I wanted to put this up today because it's my birthday :) Enjoy!

_You must be the girl._

The words ring in Rey's ears as she gapes at the figure in shock; briefly, a part of her wonders if she imagined the note of curiosity in the voice, yet before she can decide, the black-clad man raises his voice to address her.

“Will you come inside?” he asks, so plainly it strikes Rey that the question doesn't have the inflection of an invitation she would have expected. And now it has been asked, she ponders – should she come inside?

Should she risk coming close to this person?

(Is he the monster?)

_(If you come into the monster's house by day_ – _)_

(But night is already falling.)

The two of them watch each other from the opposite sides of the ajar gates.

“If I step through,” she asks slowly, “will I be able to go back?”

“That will depend on you.”

“What does it mean?” she presses.

“This is a place of hospitality,” he says. “If you do not abuse the hospitality extended to you, you may come and leave as you please. Unless you decide otherwise.”

(What does it mean?)

If he is the monster – is he trying to lure her in? Why, if he could just attack her straight away?

The staff feels heavy in her hands.

“Are my friends inside?”

At this, the masked figure makes a sound that could, perhaps, be a growl of annoyance.

“You are referring to those thieves? _”_

“They're not—” Rey begins, but pauses. “They wanted to see—” _the monster, if it was real._

She bites her tongue.

“ _Are_ they inside?” she demands. _Are they all right,_ she thinks.

“They are in the house,” he informs her. “Alive and well,” he adds dryly, sensing – or guessing – her unspoken concern.

(Should she trust him?)

The man gives a tired sigh, as of exasperation.

“Come inside,” he repeats, and this time there is a definite element of request to his tone as he moves aside and gestures expansively towards the door. “Please.”

Making up her mind, Rey steps through the gates.

As she does, she senses a sudden difference in the air; the parched quality is gone, replaced by a sweet heaviness she cannot quite place; it is almost stifling.

It takes her a moment to recognise the scent of roses.

The masked man waits for her to approach, then turns to lead her towards the door, his long cloak sweeping about him as he walks. Rey observes him carefully, at the same time endeavouring to keep an eye on her rapidly darkening surroundings; it is no time to let her guard down.

Her guide holds the door open before her; she walks in without pause, ignoring the stab of unease at the idea of entering the house or, for that matter, turning her back on him.

(She won't back away now.)

The door closes with the barest sound – soft and final; the host's footsteps follow after Rey's. The moment they pass through the threshold, the hall erupts in light, revealing panelling-covered walls and vaulted ceiling.

“I welcome you,” the man says with a new air of formality, “to this household. Do you wish to rest after your journey? Are you hungry?”

(She does, and she is.)

“No,” she spats, annoyed and disoriented by what appears to be pointless charade. “I want to see my friends. Where are they?”

(Are they really here?)

The masked man nods.

“Very well. Follow me,” he says, and heads inside the house, Rey trailing half a step behind him. Once again, it occurs to her to worry whether she is being led into a trap; yet what would be the purpose of it, now that she is already in the monster's den? Behind the gate and the door, could she be trapped further?

(Probably yes.)

She tries to memorise the sequence of corridors and turns she is being led through, but quickly loses count.

Finally, they arrive at a door, at which the man knocks, then opens for her as he did the front door; and inside, Rey sees Finn and Poe.

* * *

“Rey!”

They are on their feet in a split second, evidently alarmed; Rey, however, is overcome with relief, and so her first instinct is to run to them. She very nearly flings herself at Finn's neck before altering her course to include Poe as well, resulting in a somewhat awkward scene in which Rey embraces as much of either friend as she manages to, while they stand stiff, clearly uncomfortable.

“You shouldn't have come here,” Finn says immediately, with Rey's one arm still around his neck. He touches it gently, a substitute of a hug. “Why have you come here?”

Rey withdraws slightly, looks from one to the other, takes in their expressions.

(She has come to save them, hasn't she?)

“I've been worried about you!” she protests. “And then the rose, and – there was a woman –”

“The rose,” Finn repeats. “Oh, Rey, I'm so sorry, I really wanted to give you the rose, to – I didn't mean to draw you here.”

“It's not your fault,” Rey says, entirely out of reflex; only after the words are out does it occur to her to wonder what the fault is here, or whose it is. But this is not the moment for that. “Are you all right?” she asks, deciding she needs to steer the conversation towards them – _she_ is the one on a rescue mission, after all, and so not the one they ought to be primarily concerned about.

She learns they are both all right – unharmed, rested, provided for; Rey feels both reassured and mystified at this.

“Why haven't you come back?”

“Why?” Now they both look at her in numb surprise. “ _He_ won't let us go,” Poe explains, in a tone which suggests it should have been obvious.

“He?” Rey glances back towards the door, but the host is nowhere to be seen. “Why not?”

“Because of the rose!” Finn bursts out.

“The rose?”

_The rose from my gardens._

_You are referring to those thieves?_

“...Oh.”

For the second time, Rey raises her hand to where the rose rests cosily on her collarbone.

“Yes,” says Poe, glaring sullenly at the flower. “Turns out he's quite protective of them.”

“It appeared on my doorstep--”

“He said he would send it to you,” says Finn gloomily, “since we'd already plucked it. He said it shouldn't go to waste.”

“And then he said we couldn't leave here,” Poe adds.

“Said _I_ couldn't leave.”

“And I said I wouldn't. We've been over this.”

At the sight of Rey's puzzlement, Poe sighs. “We thought about this –- at first, I wanted to deliver the rose to you. I meant to warn you. But this guy said he wouldn't trust me with it. Don't know what his problem is. Anyway, after he said that, I got this weird feeling and decided I couldn't leave Finn alone here – and that even if I went to warn you, you'd have my hide for abandoning him.”

Rey's lips quirk in a small smile, which disappears as soon as it forms.

“I wanted him to go,” Finn supplies.

“I'd come anyway,” Rey says, striving to sound dismissive. “I couldn't leave you, either. So it's all right.”

Except for the fact Finn is still imprisoned here, she thinks.

They fall silent.

“Does he keep watch over you, or what?” Rey asks after a while.

“No.” This time it is Finn who answers her with that note of exasperation. “There is a barrier. Magical barrier. I can't go beyond the gates, even though they are open.”

Rey nods, her fears justified.

“But only after you picked the rose?” she probes further.

“It was odd,” Poe begins. “We went into this house – open gates, open doors, no-one in sight. We searched, called – but all we found was a note saying welcome and a laid table. We stayed the night – nothing happened. So we pretty much gave up on finding the monster here, and were ready to go.”

“We went out of the house the back way – and there was this huge rose garden. I picked one rose, and there he leaps out, all but roaring, how dare I pluck his precious roses.”

“Finn,” Poe cuts in, “tried explaining, very reasonably, I thought, that he'd promised a rose to a girl, to which this guy was somewhat understanding, but not enough to actually let him go.”

“So… what is it he wants to do with you?” Rey asks, frowning. Despite all the impression of a serious danger, the actual threat appears to be hidden.

“Didn't say.”

“Nothing, if you believe him.”

“Do you?” Rey wants to know.

“Hard to say. Unless...”

“What?”

“He said, if the rose was intended for a lady, then the lady should receive it. And if she cared, she would come.”

A shiver runs down Rey's spine.

“Rey,” Finn whispers into the silence, “you shouldn't have come here.”

_No, I really should have_ , she thinks, but do esn't speak.

“Who _is_ he?” is what she asks instead.

Her friends look at her  helplessly .

“He's the _monster_ , Rey.”

( It crosses Rey's mind that  she knows;  but it is just a word.)

(It explains nothing.)

“All right,” she says, reaching a decision. “I need to talk to this monster.”

* * *

Waving her friends' protests aside, she stalks out of the room and shuts the door behind her; she half-hears their raised voices as she breaks into a run, emerging out of the corridor and onwards, into the hall.

“You!” she shouts. “Show yourself! Where are you hiding?”

“I am not hiding,” says the familiar, deadened voice to her right. “Why are you shouting?”

Rey halts and turns on him, eyes flashing in rage.

“What do you want from me?” she demands.

“What do _I_ want from _you_? You are the one screaming at me.”

The audacity of this statement takes Rey aback, momentarily stalling her outburst.

She rearranges her thoughts.

“Why did you make me come here?”

“I did not,” he says, brusquely. “You came of your own volition. And, in case it is not clear to you, you are free to leave at any moment.”

“You sent me the rose! You expected me!”

“I sent you the rose because your _friend_ plucked it with the intention that you have it,” he retorts coldly.

“So you were doing him a favour,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yes,” he snarls. “Have I expected you to come? Based on the way your _friends_ spoke of you, I have. But I certainly did not force you to.”

“You imprisoned them!” she finally blurts.

“They took something that was not for the taking, and thus cannot leave the house,” he says coolly, in a manner that suggests he's correcting her.

She glares at him.

“So what _is_ it you want me to do?” she asks at length. “What do I have to do to free my friends?”

“To free them? It is simple,” he says. “You merely need to take their place.”

Rey gapes.

“Take–”

“Remain here, in this house,” he clarifies. “If you do, your friends will be free to go.”

“I– Stay here? For how long?”

There is a sudden shift in the atmosphere; where it has already been strained, it darkens perceptibly.

“I cannot say,” he says, and it seems to Rey is he angry, now. “Stay.”

* * *

 

_Stay._

Panic sweeps over her: she cannot, cannot, cannot stay.

She needs to go back.

She pictures herself walking away, leaving Finn and Poe behind in the monster's mansion; going back to Jakku, to her small hut on the edge of the world, with the knowledge that her only friends will never visit her again –

– or just Finn. Then she and Poe will go find someone to help free him, overpower the monster –

– she pictures Finn, alone in the house, all for a rose he plucked for her.

She pictures herself going alone to seek help – searching for a powerful magic user, perhaps; persuading them to help; all the while worrying for her friends _and_ the fact her family –

Cold fear coils in her stomach.

(She has already been away for too long.)

She has to come back – she can't leave her friends – the family she doesn't know – the only friends she's ever had –

_Unless you decide otherwise._

_For how long?_

_I cannot say._

Rey remembers the rope in her backpack, the rope she plans to tie a knot on for every day she is away.

She opens her mouth, yet finds no words to speak.

“Well?” the monster urges. Is he impatient? expectant? curious? – Rey can't decide.

( _She won't back away now._ )

“If I do stay,” she says, narrowing her eyes, “what will you expect of me?”

“Nothing.” The answer is immediate. “I will expect nothing of you. You will be my honoured guest,” he adds, with a strange tone that sounds almost like sincerity, almost like a plea.

“Rey!” Finn. He is panting. “Rey, don't!”

But the masked figure is focused solely on Rey; she can feel his attention, centred on her, overbearing.

“Rey.” He pronounces it carefully, as if testing the sound of her name. Instinctively, she straightens, her gaze boring into the dark mask. “Will you stay here, in your friend's place?”

“I will,” she says.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 3, but I'm afraid revealing Prince Charming will take a little longer than that ;) Enjoy!

“ _I will,” she says._

The two words carry a great weight, and Rey is overcome with a sense of solemnity, as if she is playing a part in an important ceremony; quick to follow is a sense of finality.

The masked man nods slowly, then unexpectedly sweeps a bow before her.

“Your chambers shall be prepared shortly,” he says.

“No!” Finn shouts, a hint of panic in his voice. “Rey, don't—I won't let you!”

“You, _”_ says the monster, “are not the one to decide, and the lady has spoken her will.”

“Her will! _”_ snaps Poe, who is suddenly there, although Rey has missed his arrival. “All of this is your fault!”

The man turns his mask towards him, and once again, the a ir takes on a darker quality.

“Not _all_ ,” he growls at length.

R ey stares at them, dumbfounded, as Poe's eyes widen and he takes a step back, clenching his fist in powerless anger.

“It's all right,” she says.

“No it's not!” Finn protests, “We—”

“You may leave tomorrow morning,” says the monster.

“And leave Rey with you? Never!”

“Finn—” Poe interjects, but the masked man speaks over him.

“Then you would negate the point of her sacrifice?”

“No! We—” his shoulders slump in defeat. “Rey, you shouldn't have—”

Rey glances between all three; she is not certain what her face may express.

Perhaps nothing.

“It's all right,” she repeats, “look—could we eat something, actually?” she asks the host. “You mentioned food earlier, and I'm famished.”

“ _Eat?_ ” Finn exclaims, flabbergasted.

“As you wish,” says the man. “You will find dinner in the dining room. I assume you will not be wanting my company; however, if you need me, call.”

With that, he leaves them, as if nothing has happened.

On cue, Finn and Poe turn to Rey; on their faces she reads expectancy, almost imploring, and she understands they are hoping her request is a ruse and are waiting for her to reveal her plan, any moment now; but she is genuinely hungry, and exhausted, and the enormity of what she has agreed to lies heavy on her; and she doesn't want the conversation she knows is pending, or at least doesn't want it in the hall, on an empty stomach.

“Where's the dining room?” she asks.

They gape at her.

“Rey, you can't possibly—”

“Please,” she interrupts; her tone is pleading, and it quietens them. “I know what you're gonna say, and I'll listen to it. All I'm asking is that you let me eat first. I'm starving.”

To that they defer, and lead the way; Rey follows a few steps behind her friends, so as to watch them stride through yet another corridor, and as she does, she wonders if her request is truly that uncommon.

She refused food and rest before, worried about Finn and Poe; was she supposed to do so again? Is she supposed to be too overwhelmed by emotion, or distressed about the future, to even think of food? Is that how another person would react?

(Is there some added significance to accepting food and drink that she is not aware of?)

Rey doesn't know. All she knows, after the important issue has been settled, is to be practical; practical in everything except the big things, because otherwise she wouldn't ever manage to survive to pursue the big things.

(Another thing she wonders is how long it will take her to learn to navigate the halls.)

They find the table laid, which does not surprise her; Rey takes a place and helps herself to the meal, which appears and smells delicious. Finn and Poe sit on both sides of her, as if flanking her, but they make no move to reach for the food. Instead, it is their time to watch her, and she feels their gazes on her and knows they are forcibly restraining themselves from speaking. Under their scrutiny Rey finds herself taking deliberately small bites and chewing them very thoroughly, her weary mind empty and grateful for this short respite into thoughtlessness.

At last she swallows the last bite, pours it down with a long drink of water, sets the glass down with decisive deliberation and raises her eyes to meet Finn's.

“Rey,” he says immediately, “I'm sorry, so sorry. It's my fault, you didn't need to—”

She shakes her head.

“I'll be fine. I'm not afraid of him.”

As she speaks the words, she realises the truth of them: her new host inspires several emotions, most negative, yet fear is not among them, its place occupied by wariness.

( _Should_ she be afraid? After all, he's the monster.)

(She shoves the thought aside.)

“We'll come back for you!” Finn is now saying. “We'll find a wizard who can defeat the monster and free you, I promise you, Rey, you'll hardly know we've gone—”

(Is he listening?)

“I'm sure you will,” she says, in an attempt to sound confident, or perhaps reassuring. She has a notion it hasn't worked. “I'll be waiting, then,” she adds.

_Waiting._ That much Rey can do.

She's good at it.

She hesitates, reluctant to name her greatest concern aloud; yet if there is a possibility of alleviating it, of passing it on – sharing some of her responsibility, as she has taken on theirs – she needs to speak.

“Only… could you do something else for me, too? Keep an eye on Jakku and… out, in case...” she trails off.

Of course, they understand.

“Sure thing,” says Poe. He has been quiet earlier, and it occurs to her there is something else troubling him that he is not sharing.

“We will,” Finn promises solemnly, and Rey smiles softly, her discomfort soothed a little; she knows Finn, who doesn't remember his family either, realises how taxing it is to endanger her chance of meeting them more deeply than Poe could.

“Then I have nothing to worry about,” she proclaims, hoping to prevent another string of apologies and assurances.

A part of her that is not overcome with weariness recognizes that this is what they need to say, that it results from guilt and a deep unwillingness to see her sacrifice herself for them; after all, she wouldn't want such a sacrifice from either of them.

This part of her understands the difficulty of accepting a sacrifice, and the paradoxical comfort of being the one who decides; it seems now her thoughts and actions turn around and she is forcing her friends to leave her here, because she could not bear to be the one to abandon them.

(This must be what friendship is, she thinks.)

(It is also friendship, she thinks, to be able to accept.)

However, a significantly larger part of her is tired and impatient, and she catches herself reflecting that she would rather they already left, if they mean to add to the burden she has taken upon herself.

(She has taken that upon herself, too.)

(But she really is too tired.)

Briefly, she closes her eyes.

“I'll be fine,” she adds, “I'm used to—” _staying behind_ , she thinks, yet checks herself in time; she doesn't want to be harsh. “Staying put,” she says, forcing a smile. “I'm sure you'll find help sooner than I could, well-travelled as you are.”

They swear to do their best, to return in no time; she wonders what it will be like, this rescue mission of theirs, for as of now, it is an entirely abstract concept to her.

She wonders what situation it will find her in.

Rey shakes her head again, in a futile attempt to clear it.

“I left my things in your room, didn't I?” she asks, feeling the need for a more immediate subject matter.

“You did,” Poe informs her. “You'll be wanting to move them to your _chambers_ , now, I expect.”

“Guess so,” Rey mutters.

* * *

Her _chambers_ , when she is escorted to them by her new host, turn out to be more spacious than the tiny hut in Jakku Rey is used to; however, the first word that occurs to her is _soft._ Soft, lush carpets, soft, flowing hangings, soft, ornate cushions on soft, elegant sofas, soft, warm blankets and soft, wide bed, in soft, toned colours – all together enough to make Rey feel coarse and rough in comparison.

“I trust they are to your satisfaction,” says the masked man; his tone is polite, and she cannot decide whether he is mocking her or not.

She nods.

He inclines his masked head in response.

“Please make yourself at home,” he says, and withdraws, leaving Rey among the softness.

Once alone, she dumps her backpack in the middle of the room and leans her staff against the wall by the bed. Then she walks over to the window and opens it wide, breathing in the air and the scent of roses; she closes her eyes and revels in the sensation of light wind, so unlike the dry air she is accustomed to, caressing her skin.

After a while Rey closes the window, kneels by her backpack, retrieves her rope and ties one knot. She pauses for a moment, then, almost as an afterthought, removes the rose from her jacket and lays it carefully down on the toilette.

Then she undresses and crawls onto the soft, wide bed and under the soft, warm covers and immediately falls asleep, because she is practical person and she really needs the rest.

* * *

In the morning Rey wakes up rested and fully alert, in a pool of light pouring through the window.

(She knows about morning grogginess, but not from experience.)

(Sometimes she thinks it would be a luxury.)

She springs out of bed; while her mind assures her Finn and Poe would never leave without seeing her, it does little to ease her impulse to run to them this very instant. She stops to refresh herself quickly and catches sight of a large open wardrobe filled with clothes: elegant and simple dresses, blouses, skirts, pants and jackets, even shoes, all looking well-made, comfortable, and tailored to fit her perfectly.

Rey stares at the assorted pieces of clothing for a moment, shuts the wardrobe, puts on her own garments and storms out of the room.

* * *

Finding her friends is not hard: they have, in fact, been waiting for her.

“Rey!”

She glances between them; how could she find them irritating just the day before? How could she want them to leave? Now, she almost wants to implore them to stay a little longer, not to leave her here, alone with the monster; suddenly, she is apprehensive.

She doesn't say anything; instead, she smiles at them encouragingly and moves to embrace Finn, who holds her fast and strong and tells her “thank you” and “take care of yourself” very quietly, and she is truly grateful he is not trying to change her mind any more. When she hugs Poe, she expects him to act cheerful and confident, if falsely; instead, he pulls her close and whispers in her ear, on the edge of audibility.

“Listen, Rey,” he urges, “Be careful. I don't know what this guy is, what kind of monster he is, but there's something about him – something familiar, and not in a nice way. He knows magic, too, and looks like he's good at it. I don't mean to scare you, just – watch out. Okay?”

“Sure,” Rey hisses back, mildly surprised.

Together, they head towards to the gates; none speaks any more – none can think of anything appropriate to say, so they merely make their way in silence.

They stop by the gates, which are still open.

There, Rey finally finds words.

“You guys take care of yourselves,” she says, simply, and stands on the yard and watches as Finn steps through, tensely at first, yet quickly relaxing his pace as the gates let him pass. Poe follows, and both look back to her, the entrance now gaping between them.

Rey waves at them.

Finn appears as if he wants to say something, but Poe pulls him away; and so she watches them leave once again. It is painfully familiar.

When the two disappear from sight, she switches her attention to the gates, and after a while takes a hesitant step towards them.

Then another.

And another.

Very carefully.

The barrier doesn't stop her violently, or even all that abruptly; it is just that at one point she cannot take another step forward.

If there were any doubt before, they are no more: she truly is trapped.

As she turns back to the house, she spots the masked man standing in front of open doors, observing her.

“Just checking,” she calls, moving in his direction.

He nods, as if in understanding.

She halts before him. “What now?” she demands, cocking her head to one side.

“Whatever you wish,” he says.

“Except for leaving.”

“Obviously.”

Silence falls between them, and Rey suddenly realises it is not a silence she is comfortable with; it is too open, too demanding. She tries to think of something to say.

“What's with this trying to dress me up?” she asks, archly.

“Do you not like the clothes?”

“I don't like you giving me clothes,” she clarifies, narrowing her eyes.

He gives a booming sigh.

“I thought you might want to change out of your travel clothes,” he explains. “How many have you taken?”

Rey glares at him.

“You will do as you please,” he says. “Also, I would like to take the occasion to ask if I may join you for dinner.”

Rey blinks, surprised.

“For dinner,” she repeats flatly. “Yes, I expect so.”

“Very well. Now, with your permission, I shall take my leave.”

He inclines his head to her and starts to walk away.

“Wait,” she calls after him; he turns the mask back towards her. “What's your name?”

A new silence descends on the yard as he stands still for a moment before finally answering.

“You may call me Kylo Ren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't have a Beauty and the Beast story without dinner! There may be a few interesting revelations during the dinner, too, so stay tuned, it should be fun.  
> In the meantime, if you are into tragic, kinslaying Elves, check out my exploits from last week.  
> Have a nice day!


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